The fighter behind the fire
The reality of facing the heat
Written by Jasper Summy
The grass was short, the flames were only about six inches tall, and the southern Californian wind was calm that day.
Patrick Titus, who was then working as an engineer for the Sequoia National Forest, said these conditions make for fires that he calls an “easy catch.” With any fire comes risk, but this one could be considered relatively underwhelming.
Within less than 10 seconds, Titus’ crew would experience a fire whirl which would leave two crew members with hand and facial burns. According to Titus, a fire whirl is essentially a dust devil with fire in it. They occur when a wildfire creates its own wind.
“We couldn’t see it develop because we were in it,” he said.
This terrifying encounter happened so fast, he couldn’t process what had just happened.
In his experience, a challenge can require such intense focus that, in the moment, it may not feel scary.
“Sometimes you don’t have the luxury of time to be fearful,” Titus said. “All I knew was ‘This is happening, open up the nozzle and get water all over the place.’”
It was only after the incident that he began to worry about the severity of the two firefighters’ injuries. Luckily, both turned out to be okay, although one had to undergo surgery.
Titus has worked extensively in the fire industry since 1979, when he made his debut with the United States Forest Service in Southern California. He’s worked in various settings since then, rushing to the scene on board of helicopters and fire engines with hotshot crews. Eventually, he moved to northern California with his family, where he continued to work with the Forest Service until he retired from it.
Through his work, Titus has traveled to 37 states, such as Hawaii and Alaska, and he’s crossed national lines into Canada. During the off season, he attended California Polytechnic State University, where he graduated with a degree in forestry and fire management.
He currently works for the Governor’s Office of Emergency Services in the Fire and Rescue Division. In this position, he coordinates local fire departments across California.
For Titus, choosing to work in the fire industry was an easy decision.
“Our house was very close to a pretty major wildfire when I was like, 11 years old,” Titus said. “It made a big impact on me.”
Mark Von Tillow was similarly impacted by an emergency incident 45 years ago, when he was 12. Back then, 911 did not exist, so when his father began having a heart attack, authorities were notified through a fire alarm pull station at the street corner. His father did not survive.
Von Tillow, who’s currently a wildland specialist for the Santa Barbara Fire Department, started as a volunteer firefighter before working his way up to the top as an incident commander. In this role, he said he’s had anywhere from 1,000 to 5,000 people under his command.
Both Titus and Von Tillow have vivid memories of certain moments in their career.
Titus was 19 when he got his first wildland fire assignment, which also happened to be his first scary work experience. He said some people’s first fires can be small and boring. His experience, however, was different: the image of the fire advancing as fast as his truck, fueled by 30 mph winds, is vividly impressed in his mind as if it happened yesterday.
Von Tillow recalled being one of the responders at the scene of a vehicle accident. He remembers trying to stabilize the head of the trapped victim, only to feel the victim’s brain with his fingers.
Titus believes quick but calculated decisions are a must in this industry. Still, experienced responders can make rash decisions when something new is encountered.
In Titus’ opinion, fear is a necessary part of the work he does. It’s impossible to eradicate, so learning self-control is key. He said there have been several moments where he’s had “close calls,” most of which have been brief.
Fearless newcomers worry him, he said. He finds fearlessness to be far from being a natural reaction to a fire. However, with training, firefighters develop the skills to appropriately deal with abnormal and scary situations.
Von Tillow shares a similar opinion. “If you’re not feeling [some] butterflies, you’re not getting the whole picture. You gotta have [some], but you definitely don’t want to operate through fear and you don’t want to let it take over,” he said.
Titus remembers witnessing a fire tornado during the Carr Fire in 2018. Its winds were estimated to exceed 143 mph, and it may have been the strongest fire tornado ever recorded in the country.
During this encounter, Titus feared for himself and mostly for the public and other firefighters.
As he moved into higher leadership roles, Titus experienced other types of anxieties. If his team lets a fire get out of control, it could destroy homes or even kill people, meaning he can’t make mistakes. These are what he called “calculated fears,” which result from spending time considering potential consequences of any decision he may make.
“Let’s say I’m running the fire as an operations section chief. My fears are probably very different than a guy’s that’s running an engine crew on the fire line. It’s a different perspective because I’m in a different role,” Titus said.
Von Tillow recalls a challenging assignment in which he was tasked with coordinating and planning the funeral of a young firefighter who died after only two weeks on the job. In this role, he had to facilitate discussions with the victim’s family, as well as plan the large memorial service for the five firefighters who had passed away.
“I wasn’t fearful. I kind of have this mantra, ‘If not me, then who? Who’s gonna do this if I don’t do it?’ I kind of use that approach with a lot of things,” he said. “You can’t just pass it to somebody, because then you’re not going to learn.”
Over the years, Titus observed that firefighters tend to bottle any negative feelings surrounding their work. Back in the day, when therapy and other support resources weren’t as common, firefighters relied on their crew members for support.
While the mental health of firefighters is a concern, there are more tools to reduce the industry’s psychological impacts today. One of these resources, the Critical Incident Stress Debriefing (CISD), is a crisis intervention tactic used to help firefighters dealing with traumatic events. Titus said CISD was used during the infamous Camp Fire — California’s deadliest and most destructive fire that resulted in 85 deaths — in 2018.
These resources are important, especially for firefighters dealing with fatal incidents. According to a study conducted in Australia, “there [is] a significant positive linear relationship between the number of fatal incidents attended and rates of post-traumatic stress disorder, depression and heavy drinking.”
When thinking about the future of the country in terms of fire danger, Titus said he’s worried. As climate change warms global temperatures, conditions become more ideal for dried plant life to catch fire.
“I’ve watched climate change happen,” Titus said. “ I am fearful that this trend of mega-fires will continue in the next 10 years.”
According to the Congressional Research Service, in 2021, 6.2 million acres burned in the West — of which 80% were on federal land — compared to the almost one million burned in the East. While the yearly number of fires has been decreasing since 1992, the amount of acres burned has increased.
“As I watch these mega-fires grow,” Von Tillow said, “I wouldn’t say I’m fearful, but I’m certainly a little bit more cautious about the timing of things, how fast they’re burning these days compared to when I started.”
In 2021, Washington was the ninth state with the most fires in the country and the fourth state with the most acreage burned, according to the Insurance Information Institute.
“When I started my career, a big fire was 5000 acres, [now] that’s considered a very small fire,” Titus said.
As he shared his thoughts, Titus noted he was currently driving through a burn from 2018, and another from two years ago.
“I am fearful of what it will look like for my kids and my grandkids. There’s places around where I live where it doesn’t look the same, and it won’t in my lifetime.”
